


Carry On My Wayward Flier

by MadamMassacre



Category: Supernatural, Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers: Prime
Genre: Adventure, Aliens, Blood, Character Redemption, Comedy, Crossover, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Gen, Half-Human, Major Character Injury, Mild Gore, Other, Pre-Trials, Rogue Starscream, Science Fiction, Slow Build, Supernatural Elements, little angst
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-17
Updated: 2018-05-17
Packaged: 2019-04-24 09:12:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14352444
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MadamMassacre/pseuds/MadamMassacre
Summary: Angels aren't the only ones that can fall, monsters can too. This particular one for once has fallen perhaps a little too far. So, here we are, the Winchester brothers, a confused Angel and a fallen monster named Starscream.





	1. A Monster Falls

**Author's Note:**

> Before we do anything, I would like to place this story and state a few things. I am very new to the Spn fandom. I only recently was dragged into it by a pal of mine. I've watched mostly everything up until the end of season 9 and the beginning of season 10 while dabbling in season 12 and 11. This story takes place just previous of Sam's trials to close the gates of hell in their universe. Starscream is coming from about mid second season of prime where he lost his t-cog to Silas. That being said, call me out on any errors and help me out where you feel is necessary. Without further a due, Carry on My Wayward Flier.

It's not only Angels that can fall. Monsters can too. Although, this specific monster, perhaps fell a little too far this time. Seekers are made to fly, they are also, despite their sleek exterior, made to crash. Unharmed and conscious can result in a relatively painless decent, but of course, is that really ever the case?

  
It's a question Starscream's repeated in his head ever since he met the hard ground. Groundbridging is an exact science and somehow, despite his efforts, doesn't always apply to the ground, to his surprise. Especially, when your coordinates seem to have been switched around and modified by a certain communications officer.

  
He stays still despite the desperate instinct to fly off and outrun whatever onslaught is surely going to be sent after him. Or perhaps clean-up crew, he can’t say for sure at this point. He can't feel too much of anything; his HUD has gone dark ever since the fall. If he would've had to take a guess he would assume that when he hit his head it closed down everything that had to do with his diagnostics and... apparently his optics.

  
It's not that he can't see, it's just difficult to, painful even. To open them is easy, but when he does... nothing focuses. A blur of colors and shapes that he can barely make out. Trying to conserve energy he closes them again, everything is so cold. Numb. Yet, even now he can feel himself moving, floating almost, which is impossible. Gravity is a cruel mistress to a flier, lose your wings, you fall you don't float.

  
Thusly, the seeker has convinced himself that his gyros also broke in the fall. It's only logical at this point. Feeling a tired sense creeping through him, his head lazily rolls backward. The lull of stasis calling to him and Starscream obeys, who would want to be awake for their own inevitable demise anyhow?

  
....

  
Maine is freezing. Colder than balls really. More specifically, cold enough to temporarily put down a hardy ‘67 Impala. Or, at least, that's what Sam's come to the conclusion of. Dean keeps going on about how whatever that weird noise was had done it. Any other day, he would have believed it but right now, it only makes sense that it was the frigid cold. It’s even starting to get to him.

  
He'd heard from the locals that sometimes freak snow storms passed through. The old folks at the cafe they dropped by seemed convinced that one was about to hit as soon as they’d left. Absurd was his original thought on the subject, the supernatural was his second.

  
Although, without any sign of said supernatural influence he'd guess that the locals were completely right.

  
"Dammit Sammy, look what this useless salt's done to her rims!" Sam gives a glance at Dean who’s affectionately stroking the speckled paint and metal. His brother mumbling to himself that the road salt they put down probably wouldn’t even be good against half a spectra much less melting all the snow and ice that’s already accumulated.  
He hugs his flannel a bit closer to his skin as a gust of wind nips at him. Looking at the vast wilderness that engulfs them. It’s an unlucky place to get caught, that’s for certain. Nobody around to rescue you from whatever horrors may come your way. Then again, there aren’t many that could get the best of them anymore. Sam hears Dean huff as the elder shuffles under the hood. Removing a burnt, no, fried piece of the Impala’s beautiful insides.

  
“Damn,” Dean mumbles fumbling the bit of wire in his fingers. The smell of melted plastic and hot rubber wafting in the freezing air. “Ignition switch just got toasted, the solenoid is… well, it’s more fried than any chicken I’ve ever eaten. Couple of the spark plugs look worse for wear but they’ll work fine.”

  
Dean looks up to a curled in Sam and searches for a road sign. Blatantly wondering if they still have some heavier coats with them. They hadn’t gotten too far from town, so luck was on their side for once with that one. Although, with the weather, it might be a bit of a challenge. Sam pipes up, “So, what’s the plan?”

  
“Pop back into town and grab some replacements, find a Motel and ride out the storm.” Dean looks expectantly. For what, Sam doesn’t know. He nods either way.  
Rifling through their Mary Poppins bag of a trunk, Sam scrounges up some heavier coats. Putting on an extra shirt underneath as backup he hands Dean the one he’d found for him. His brother shrugs it on in a rush and starts heading towards the woods, knowing full well for every three steps he takes Sam takes only one. But he stops when he realizes that little brother isn’t following.

  
He turns, giving Sam a look, “Well, come on, what’re you waiting for?”

  
“Uh, Dean, shouldn’t we just follow the road.” He points to the stretch of winding highway beyond.

  
“We’ll get to town quicker if we cut through the woods, besides, we might find something interesting. Like, what took out my car.”

  
Sam grits his teeth, jaw tightening at the slightest, but he walks forward, following just behind Dean. It’s not like they don’t know what to do if something gets the drop on them, that doesn’t mean he’d like give something the chance to though.

  
It doesn’t feel like long before they see a clearing in the distance and when they reach it they find a small lake. Dean sighs as soon as he reaches the beach. Loose ice chunks floating in the oily black water. If it had been winter then the lake would have frozen over and there wouldn’t have been much of an issue but unfortunately, it wasn’t meant to be. Snow comes down in smaller flakes now and it would seem their freak storm is coming to a close but the wind still bites. Sam doesn’t miss the light shiver that goes through Dean’s shoulders when it does. After all these years it's hard to hide really anything from each other.  
“Whelp, I guess we follow the ro- no…wait.” Dean squints, focusing on something in the distance.

  
“Dean?”

  
“Hey Sam,” pointing to a bank to the far right, underneath a fallen willow is a suspicious black log. Or…actually not really a log at all. “You see that?”

  
It takes a moment to process the outline of a human figure floating just above the water. Most of their body submerged and what peaks above the inky blackness a deep grey that could easily be missed or mistaken. Dean makes a grumbling noise before trudging through the snow and branches to get to the other bank. Sam following in step, trotting up along until he’s right in front of what could be classified as a corpse. The skin looking drained of both life and essence, something ever so familiar to him since birth.  
Dean sighs again, yet another dead in their wake, he reaches down and hooks his hands under the body’s shoulders. He finds himself lucky that it hasn’t gone through rigor mortis yet despite the freeze. Sam takes a few steps to make a spot for the odd body. But just as Dean’s about to pull the lanky thing from the depth he pauses, giving an experimental pull against the guy’s body. “Sam, give me a hand here will yah?”

  
The taller of the two reaches around and begins to pull on the body a bit and stops dead. Dean furrows his brow, “Yeah, I’ll pull at those, you yank Mr. Chilly out.”  
Drying his hands off on his pants Dean reaches for the soaked appendage. Delicately removing it from below the water’s edge and laying it out on the bank. He steps over the body and repeats with the other one. Spread out there on the ground like that they’re huge. Larger than the body itself, Dean gives Sam a skeptical glance and nods for Sam to pull the chilled thing from the water. The freezing cold liquid draining from the man's clothes and off his grey skin.

  
Sam gives a start when he goes to readjust his grip on the man's forearms. Touching them again for confirmation, he finally grabs again and yanks the body free of the cold water. What would appear to be some sort of metal gauntlet presents itself, attached rather well to the cold thing’s body. Dean only raises a brow and continues to inspect the grey wings. “Alright… that’s weird.”

  
“Yeah, no kidding.”

  
“What you think it is?”

  
“I… I don’t know, you can’t see angel’s wings, especially not…like this.”

  
Then, probably one of the most likely and unlikely things happened. It woke up. Dean drew his gun quicker than what the human eye could see, aiming for the thing’s head, Sam does the same gripping the demon knife like a lifeline, ready for the living corpse to attack. “Hey, hey, hey, easy there buddy, no sudden movements,” Dean warns, keeping a keen hunter's eye on its movements. He knows all too well how little a warning there can be for an attack.

  
Choking and coughing the lanky creature sits up looking around in every direction. Wet wings shiver as they begin to move with their sudden reanimation. Taking a moment to roll onto its hands and cough out whatever water remains in its lungs, the creature reassembles its bearings. Pupil-less eyes open and switch between the two figures before it. A low snarl emits from the back of its throat as Dean cocks his gun in response. The thing’s head snapping around to face him, tightening its wings close to it, gives standing a try. Stumbling and shaky at first but it finally stood. Keeping a hand on the side of its head as he did so, entangling white-grey hair in the joints while the heels of his boots sink into the muck.

  
He watches the man stumble for a moment. Cold soaked wings shaking as he does so. Then, he reaches out a hand and Dean feels a shiver run through him. They're not gauntlets, they're his hands, completely encased in metal, ending in sharp points that look like they could gut you whenever necessary. He hasn't seen that before...  
Shaking, the lanky thing speaks, "Where am I!?" The voice sends a small chill through Dean but he makes sure not to show it.

  
"Um," he looks around, "middle of the woods, pal, in Maine. So nowhere."

  
The snarl that comes out of the back of the stranger's throat could near be called feral. "Coordinates you imbecile."

  
Dean snorts, "Do I look like a GPS to you?"

  
Red eyes glare as the man takes his hand out of his hair, revealing a near translucent purple substance covering his metal fingers. Sam squints to see if he's looking at it right, taking a step and snapping a twig lying wait in the underbrush in the process. Damn sneak ass twigs.

  
Grey wings flare and the creature whips itself around to face him. Sam twitches but doesn't jump, keeping his eyes trained on the talons the thing processes. Wobbling again the man reaches again for its head and guessing from the so-called 'blood' Sam finds it a safe bet that there's definitely an injury there that's preventing it from slicing him up like a potato.

  
Sam swallows his doubt, "Your head-"

  
"What of it!"

  
"I, uh, I can...we can help patch it up?"

  
Dean furrows his brow, giving Sam a near glare. But the man gives a grunt, "Seeing as I'm practically at your mercy would there be any other choice to accept?"

  
Sam shrugs, not that Starscream can tell that at all.

  
...

  
They end up heading back to the car. Seeing as the med kit's there and there's a lake between them and town. The odd drowned man dragging himself behind the two brothers. It takes what feels like a few hours to get there at the slow pace. All the way Dean’s nagging in Sam’s ear about his life choices. “What the hell were you thinking inviting that thing to come along with us like we’re some jolly happy family!? We don’t even know what this thing is yet!”

  
The younger can only silently sigh, “It doesn’t seem like it’s going to hurt us Dean, and he’s more wounded than anything. Besides whatever allies we can get we should take. We've been a little short on those lately.”

  
“Yeah, but that doesn't mean we go taking every stray that comes around! And if it's hurt that doesn't mean it won't gut you.”

  
Sam sighs and hurries his pace to the car.

  
When they get there Starscream leans on the tree beside the vehicle, skin paled and the odd violet blood running freely down the side of his head. As he does so Dean watches his movements with calculated precision, noting every little detail that their new addition possesses. Filing the limp away under 'possible advantages'. He can hear Sam digging through the trunk, rifling through layers of weaponry and supplies. Eventually, he finds the kit and Dean motions for the creature to come over.

  
Starscream pushes himself off the tree and blearily limps to the Impala. Oddly enough, it stands next to the hood but it's only when it touches the car that things get strange. As soon as contact is made with those metal talons and the vehicle; the car comes to life. With a bright spark and Earth-shattering crack Sam barely hears the engine roar to life in its moment of glory.

  
Dean nearly leaps off into the beginning of a snow bank as it happens, and Sam drops the med kit or really throws it. While the creature remains unaffected, staring blankly into the now running engine, a drop of the violet liquid dripping out of his nose.

  
The elder Winchester is the first to recover, rushing over to his treasure and looking at the engine with a look of utter confusion. "Um," he starts, "thanks?"  
The man makes a hum in the back of his throat. "How strange." Dean opens his mouth to respond before the winged creature passes out. Tumbling to the ground with a thud.

  
Dean looks at Sam and the fallen being, mouth opening and closing like a fish. “Shit.”


	2. The Monster

“It melted my damn seats!” Dean yells, frantically attempting to brush off the purple liquid from the leather. Hissing every time he even makes the slightest skin contact with the so-called blood. Sam can almost hear the sizzle of flesh each time, sending shivers down his spine.  
Dean runs his hand over the acid-like compound again, attempting to remove it with the sleeve of his jacket but failing horribly. “Ow! Son of a bitch!”  
Sam rolls his eyes, giving a quiet sigh under his breath as he searches for onlookers from the Motel. Considering it’s the dead of night he’s almost certain that there shouldn’t be any. Maybe a few night owls but if there are they haven’t shown their presence. Then again, the ones that are probably up are too hammered to notice the body in-between an Impala, a giant and what would appear to be a Jetta.  
Dean’s still hissing and cussing when he notices their new addition twitch. Jingling the wonderfully enchanted chains that encase them. “Dean,” Sam mutters quietly.  
The elder looks over his shoulder exaggerated frown ever-present as he looks down at the thing. Shaking his lightly burnt hand like a cat that accidentally dipped its paw in water. “Right, flyboy.” Dean takes a moment to glance around for onlookers and edges around the car, snatching the tarp left discarded on top of the trunk. Sam lets the thought trickle away on how many bodies they’ve wrapped that thing with as Dean fans the plastic cover over the man. He’ll pity the poor guy later.  
Once their body looks decidedly less like a body Sam carefully hefts the now ‘old tent’ over his shoulder. Wincing when a piece of what he’d assume is bone hit’s his shoulder, he readjusts accordingly. Earning him only a soft groan from under the heavy ‘tent’. He has to shuffle the guy around a little, to actually get a good grip on the lanky thing. The wings don’t help too much either.  
Dean’s already setting up the Demon trap with chalk on the floor when he maneuvers Starscream in. Hefting him down onto and arranging the man into a sitting position with practiced ease, folding legs under torso and maneuvering him to where the chains hold his body up accordingly. He looks like a sacrifice but… maybe he’ll come out of this unscathed… him and Dean as well. Ripping off a piece of duct tape with an automated like response he puts it over the creature’s mouth. Wouldn’t want to wake the neighbors. Dean only gives him a smirk and finishes the circle. Adding minor angel wards here and there, Sam would imagine it will lead to having Cas give them a visit after about an hour or so. For an off standing angel, he’s a bit clingy, oddly enough.  
“Alright, now we just gotta wait for him to wake up, figure out what he is, then figure out how to kill him.” The amount of enthusiasm, however diluted, is still disturbing.  
“And if it’s an angel?”  
Dean takes a second to answer, opening and closing his jaw, perhaps testing the words. “Well, uh, then it’s more of a catch and release project don’tcha think.”  
He raises an eyebrow but nods, huffing, “Yeah, I think.”  
Dean decides to cut the conversation there as he shrugs off his jacket, fiddling momentarily with the pockets to remove an angel blade and the demon knife. Only pausing to grapple for something else in his jacket. Giving a snort when he retrieves the smaller pocket knife. Sam assumes that it’s probably made of iron, have to be prepared.  
…  
Can’t fly you’ll die! Can’t fly you’ll die! Can’t fly you’ll die! Starscream growls at the sound of Skywarp’s voice singing that mantra over and over. Openly mocking the ground troops that would make way for the fliers to bombard the next wave of ground pounders. It’s unfortunate that it’s true as well. Considering his current missing organ and the new found predicament he’d assume that the purple seeker will be mocking him soon enough. Even better, gutting him in his arrival to the Allspark. If Skywarp ever ended up there, that is.  
Although, when Starscream opens his ‘optics’ the world he sees isn’t what he was expecting. He’s staring at a fuzzy floor, marked with white patterns, in a dimly lit area. The so-called seeker gives a mild shake, his body feels odd. It’s cold but not in the way it should be, his hands and arms feel right as do his legs but not… not the rest. His wings feel stiff but they also feel folded almost, albeit not unnaturally but perhaps… an anesthetic has yet to wear off. Starscream cringes to see what Silas may have done to him.  
But, hadn’t he escaped? Yes… and when he jumped to get through the ground bridge… he ended up… somewhere. It was blank after that. Moving his head to the side he feels something grind as he tries to lift it. Stiff, from lack of use perhaps? How long had he been out? Starscream pulls his body up and freezes. There’s something around his neck, his wrists are bound as are his undoubtedly damaged wings. Then… then he realizes the room that’s so foreign to his eyes. And realizes that he can’t scream.  
Before him are two humans, staring at him with their cold black eyes, one taller than the other. Vaguely he remembers them from somewhere but at the moment that isn’t what really matters. He feels his wings move outward in instinct but is more than panicked when they’re caught. So, he does what any caged animal would do, he thrashes.  
Extending his wings as far as they will go he moves them frantically, testing the cuffs with tough yanks and pulls. He feels small, he feels wrong, what have they done!?  
Starscream’s aware of when he starts making pitiful noises behind whatever it is that they’ve covered his mouth with but at the moment he can’t care less. Then, Primus blesses him, a link to whatever device they’d concocted snaps and his wrists are free from behind his back. Both of the humans jump at the noise, drawing a gun and knife at the sound. Starscream smirks from behind the duct tape, swinging his only weapons around to the front. He reaches to free his legs when he pauses, stopping dead. They aren’t his.  
Knee down they’re familiar but not quite right, but above, the black, flimsy leg isn’t. It’s near flesh and he slowly looks at his hands and arms. Servos are very familiar, in fact nearly his own talons but as the elbow joint begins it shows the white flesh reveal itself. Ebbing into a torso that is weak and permeable. He touches his neck for confirmation and notes the collar that contains him. He can feel bits of mesh but mostly all he can feel is the fragile meat these creatures inhabit.  
He’ll have to murder Silas if it’s the last thing he does.  
As metal claws brush over what he believes these creatures call fur or… something. He looks at the beings that still hold him at gunpoint. Both appearing to be confused by his sudden epiphany. The shorter one giving him one of the strangest looks he’s ever seen while the taller evaluates him like Shockwave would a new creation. Carefully but curiously. Starscream reaches for the edge of his vocal hindrance and removes it. Wincing at the slight pain that follows but presses on.  
Lacking anything to really say the former seeker gives a short-nervous laugh. Panic still not leaving his psyche, scheming ever-present “I would guess that a release cannot be arranged?”  
Dean lowers his knife and gun, striding towards the man, Starscream flinches away but only finds a wall as the blade cuts open his exposed collarbone. The screech that escapes his throat is undignified but it quickly turns into a snarl as he swipes at Dean’s pant leg. “You dare!”  
Dean snorts, “Yeah, yeah calm down flyboy.” Starscream only gives a low growl in return, scratching at the carpet like a cat sharpening its claws. “Alright, so, not a demon. Congrats, so what are you?”  
Sam could have sworn he saw Satan flash in the creature’s eyes and he would know. “I’m one of you pathetic humans at the current moment. As if you wouldn’t know, now tell me, where’s Silas?”  
The elder raises a brow, “Silas?”  
“Don’t play coy, you work for him!”  
“Pal, I don’t, I don’t even work for myself.”  
The snarl escaping Starscream’s throat sounds horrid, “Then why pray tell am I here?”  
Sam steps in before Dean can make a snarky remark. “We found you in a lake in Maine. You’d busted your head and we offered to clean it up and-”  
“-you jump started my car.” Dean remarks, “After you fried the crap out of her solenoid.”  
Sam grits his teeth, silently agreeing with the statement. Starscream stares up at the two, eyebrow raised in a skeptical manner. Carefully, he reaches to the side of his head, noting the shorter fur there and feeling along the stitched wound. Cringing at the thought of flesh being crudely pulled together with thread. Then again, welds, in a way, aren’t that different. Removing his one of few Cybertronian bits from the disgusting injury he feels his wings finally fold down. He’s almost afraid to look at them. “Then it would appear I am at your mercy.”  
Dean gives a short laugh and shakes his head, crossing his arms at the thought. “Why can’t everything just give up that easily?”  
Sam ignores him, “So, what are you exactly?”  
Starscream raises his hand, admiring the lack of change to its exterior, mulling the question over. “A Seeker.”  
The puzzled look that comes across Sam’s face is the only thing that follows before the door is promptly pounded on. A voice on the other side muttering in a low monotone, “Dean, Sam, why can’t I come in?”  
The one Starscream would assume is Dean runs a hand down his face, walking to the door to reveal, surprise, another flesh bag. Although, this one appears…different. Even with what the former seeker would guess is a half-mechanical eye he can see the field surrounding this man. It’s bright, nearly blinding in fact, and almost fear-inducing, not to mention the bird-like wings that fold so close to his body. Yet, Starscream can’t help but feel the calm that comes with it. The man looks at Dean and Sam before stopping his ice-like gaze on him. His lips part, despite no words falling from them.  
“Dean,” he starts, “why do you have a god killer in your room?”  
Sam’s eyes shoot over to Castiel, “A what?”  
Starscream only smirks.


	3. To Kill Your Own God

"God-killer?" Dean parrots, skepticism dripping from his mouth.

Cas gives a glance at Dean and nods. While Sam hears Starscream clear his throat.  
All eyes fall to the former seeker, "God-killer is a strong word. But I believe he's referring to my general...ah...species. Cyber-"

"-tronians, the ones that murdered their own God." Cas finishes.

Starscream frowns, nearly glaring at the angel, words going through his head but none of them said out loud.  
Dean snorts, breaking the silence, "Sounds good in my book. So, what're these 'Cyber' things?"

"A race of mechanicals created by Primus, long before father ever made Angels. They broke into a civil war and destroyed their planet, Primus with it as themselves. I thought...the universe thought they'd all died." Cas explains, eyeing Starscream throughout the explanation. The man looks boredly at Castiel, going through the vague information.

"Angels, you say?" Starscream hums, "Never heard of you. Perhaps when the Ark and Nemesis were almost destroyed... you may have believed us dead. I find it strange that you hadn't noticed where we made our new home since you know about us."

Castiel barely bats an eye. "They were destroyed. All of you died, none were left in the wreckage and as you're not in your form I would assume you didn't survive either."

Starscream's sneer disappears, "Fool, if you really knew what happened..." He pauses, ignoring the look Castiel gives him. At first, only to pick his words carefully, then only to realize that he fell through a ground bridge. Staring at his hand again, he begins to piece together events. He’s known other worlds, other universes beyond the one he belonged, they’d once reached beyond the veil and into the dimension only referred to as the Shattered Glass dimension. Where each role was swapped to the polar opposite and he’s glanced into the realm of shadows. A dimension running alongside his own, invisible to all in the original. Would it be so impossible to reach a dimension like this one?

If so, then perhaps...the sudden arrival of something the universe could not ignore changed him to fit his new role instead of completely wiping him out.  
Tapping a digit on the carpet he debates his next move. Ignoring the stare of the Angel before him and his audience he snaps the chains binding his ankles and slashes those connecting his neck. Both of his captors tense and prepare for a fight. Starscream merely stands. Brushing flecks of metal from his watered down jacket. Noting the torn fabric.

Dean tightens his grip on the gun, aiming directly for the former Seeker’s heart, a million things running through his head as he watches the man. It’s a far too casual scene for his liking, he’s seen demons walk over wards at times with that look. The cocky indifference over something that Dean’s had some faith in, unknowingly shattering it at that moment.Of course, if they did know, it would only make them laugh harder. He places his index finger on the edge of the trigger. All the while Castiel remains as passive as before. "I do not think it would be wise to leave our sight." A distinctive monotone adds.

Testing the cuffs for a moment Starscream nearly ignores him. "Spending time with fleshlings isn’t on my highest of priorities Angel."

“You’re covered in gate dust, I can’t let you leave.” It’s less of a threat and more of a statement as it rolls off Castiel’s tongue.

Sam raises a brow at the announcement, “Gate dust,” he prods.

“When beings travel between realms it’s left on them when passing through the gates between realms. I uh… don’t know any other word for it.” The awkward shame that rolls off the Angel is almost precious as Dean gives Cas a curious glance.

“So our Cybertronian pal here came from heaven?”

Castiel pauses, “It’s a possibility, but I would think if he came from anywhere he would have come from their spark.”

Starscream stops his picking and preening for a moment at the word. “I’m not dead! I simply fell through my dimension to your pesky one! And that’s not even the right word!”

“Our dimension?” Dean utters, ignoring the shouts and lowering his gun, stowing away the knife. “Care to clue us in here flyboy?”

Starscream bristles, “You would do well to not call me that fleshling.”

Dean gives a short laugh, “Yeah, well, maybe I don’t like the term ‘fleshling’.” Sam can only cringe at the amount of pettiness.

“Our dimension,” Sam pries attempting to drive the conversation away from the initial vigor. “You mean, you came from another one, for sure?”

At first, a grumble is all he receives until Starscream finds it fit to face the taller human. “I came from a ground bridge that had indefinitely crossed with another one. It must have thrown me into a second dimension near the one I came from. Now,” straightening his still chained wings Starscream looks to Castiel, malevolence shining on those pupil-less eyes of his. “If you don’t mind, I will take my leave.”

Reaching up with a talon he grasps the chain binding his wing, snapping the link with the sort of ease expected from a Seraph. Frankly, it probably would have scared any normal human, unfortunately for Starscream, the two before him aren’t very normal at all. Dean grapples for his gun almost immediately before he feels a shift in the air around him. The ghostly feeling of an Angel’s wings spreading in defiance. The lights flicker, allowing for their new acquaintance to get a glimpse of them. It’s both terrifying and exhilarating at the same time.

Starscream watches the lights turn on and off with restrained terror, waiting for a cruiser to come out of the sky, or at least, that’s what he would have expected instead of this. Quite frankly he’d noticed the bird's wings furled behind Castiel’s back, he hadn’t been entirely impressed then, now, only a tad more. Although, the EM field that surrounded Castiel was already going wild with energy, cracking and snapping at his own. That, he will admit, he found impressive for a fleshy. If it wasn’t for the fact that he was on the receiving end he may be impressed by the whole ordeal. But, he blames coding for what happened next.

As Castiel let his wings fully spread out in the flashing light Starscream throws off the chain remaining attached to his own. Allowing for his set to fully spread out and he will admit, it felt different. Instead of the normal flair of his wings, he felt them unfold and align, muscles shifting feathers. Beneath which he knew lied Cybertonian workings, the bits of metal hidden in the feathers giving a sharp clack as they moved. It was...disturbing.

Although, as they did so it did earn him an interesting reaction that mixed between interest and the mildest of fears. Castiel merely sucked in a breath allowing for the lights to stop flickering as the two stared at one another. It reminded Sam of tropical birds squaring off for a piece of territory albeit a tad more horrific. Dean only huffs in response, eyeing the now semi-dried wings.

Starscream’s set out in a show of prowess as the smaller secondary set only stand up on end, aligning with the pieces of metal connected to them. His body ready to take off while his claws, hooked and curled, looked more ready to slice and dice as they say. Dean keeps his hand closed around his gun as he watches the two winged beings have a silent debate on whose set is bigger. The irony, of which, he doesn’t miss.

Finally, Cass speaks, “If you didn’t fall from your heaven then you must have fallen through ours, it’s the only explanation as to how you came across the dust.”

“Well, unless he crawled out of hell,” Dean adds.

Castiel shakes his head, “No one walks out of hell without breaking open a new gate, we’d know if he did.”

Starscream’s glare continues, “I could have simply come directly to Earth.”

“The gates to Earth don’t leave that kind of dust, or at least not the amount you’ve collected.”

Sam gives a confused glance over to Cass, a question burning in the back of his mind. “So you’re saying that he came from his dimension to heaven and then to Earth? Why didn’t he get caught in heaven?”

The Angel opens his mouth, about to give an explanation but closes it, finding there isn’t much of one to give. “I’m not sure, it’s possible it’s because he’s not all human or even the lack of human soul. Either way, we need to get him back to his own dimension before it causes something else to tear loose.” With that Castiel glances to Dean, a quick and silent conversation seeming to go between the two. “Don’t let him out of your sight.” And with that said, he was gone.

Dean only sighs, “Awesome. So we’re supposed to babysit.”

Starscream huffs, fiddling with the collar around his neck and ultimately slicing through the chains binding him to the wall. Sam gives a jump at the noise but otherwise keeps a steady gaze on the ex-Seeker.

“Hey, hey, hey!” Dean snaps, “Stop breaking those, they’re rare.” Starscream gives him an annoyed glance fully tucking his greyish wings back where they belong and giving a single link a snap before stopping. Running his hand down his face Dean looks out the window and back at Starscream. Taking the key out of his pocket and walking towards the man. Undoing his collar with a click of the key, the remaining chain falling the ground with a loud thud. Starscream gives his neck a rub, pulling at what remains of the cuffs, “Such crude creatures.” He mutters, straightening his arms so Dean could undo the cuffs.

The elder brother only gives Starscream a look. “What, just because Cass said to keep you in our sight doesn’t mean you get your knives back Edward Scissorhands.”

The growl that emits from Starscream’s throat sounds almost painful, “I can skewer you easy enough with them on.” Which is probably the line that led to him having his digits encased in duct tape sitting in the backseat with a sock in his mouth.


	4. Denny's Is For Humans

The sun hadn't even peaked over the horizon when they left. Leaving the world a chilled cool that crept into your bones and stayed there until an ungodly heat nearly cooked you alive. To Dean, it was a welcomed cool that promised a warm day but apparently to his current company it was anything but.

Another wing flap of protest told him so. Or perhaps it had to do with the binds, both would be a good assumption. Dean only glared back at the former seeker for disturbing the air.

Starscream merely glared back and the hunter mentally resolved that at the next stop flyboy was going in the trunk.

He felt the air move again with a short ruffle of feathers and Dean gave a quiet hiss at the oddity. Starscream blatantly ignored him with a shiver, sneakily licking at the duct tape that had only recently replaced the sock. Pulling his wings around himself with another ruffle of his new feathers. Dean gave a low laugh at the sight, earning him another pointed glare from his feathery captive. "You act like you've never been cold before."

A shift of a wing and a snarly growl is all Dean gets as a response. "Ah c'mon it's forty flipping degrees, that lake we found you in was chillier than that bird man."

Silence follows and Dean gives an experimental glance in his rearview mirror again. Expecting the pale-skinned thing to be glaring right back at him but instead, Starscream's gaze falls somewhere else. Somewhere he doesn't like the feathered fiend looking, his baby brother. The younger napping away in the passenger seat, head lolling on the door, in a nearly comfortable and peaceful position.

"Hey," Dean snaps, Starscream lazily looks up, "Don't be getting any smart ideas."

An eyebrow raise is all that follows, a rather human reaction for an apparent alien. Dean turns his eyes back to the road as the stare lingers on him. Staying with him like a soft buzzing in the back of his head, not quite infuriating but enough to notice.

Casually, Dean does wonder what all this one can do. Thinking back to when their alien jump-started the car with the slightest of touches. And then, at an earlier moment taking it out with only a sudden plummet to Earth. Mundane strength, but a strength he doesn't know nor understand. And not knowing your enemy can be one of the most detrimental things. Not to mention that he doesn't know said limit or what else their compatriot can do. Even more terrifyingly, how to stop it from doing any damage. Knives make it bleed, he starts with that, and works his way to the head wound, deducting that their compatriot isn't bulletproof, although, perhaps not killable by the said bullet. Either way, if he can slow it down, that means he can kill it.

Giving another glance in the mirror Dean notes the paper skin a second time. The shake of a deep underlying shiver. Concluding that their monster is probably more human than anything else at the moment. Vulnerable as a kitten with the claws and strength of a lion. Pupil-less eyes snap up and Dean is quick to look back to the road. A completely automatic response but as he does so he hears Sam stir. Dean looks over, recognizing the slow beginnings of awareness, he clears his throat and Sam bolts up in a panic. Scrambling like a cat dunked in water. Something Dean appreciates, even if it does look undignified.

The huff of laughter from the backseat doesn't escape his notice as Sam regains composure. The younger looking around, "Where are we?" He mutters, his lungs itching to push out a yawn under his breath.

"Halfway there, just a couple more hours till we hit the Batcave."

Sam nods, gazing back out the window and to his watch for a moment. They hadn't eaten since noon yesterday. Trading that for travel time and the wrangling of their new acquaintance. He was beginning to think an early breakfast might set off the day just right. Apparently, Dean had thought the same thing as he turned off the main highway. "There's a Denny's a couple miles from here, not my first choice but they're always open for the crack of dawners."

"Or midnighters," Sam adds. Turning his head a bit to check if Starscream was still in the back. The eyes snapping around to meet his being all the confirmation he really needed. Near blood red rings shining in the dim light of dawn. They reminded him of Lucifer's in a way and Sam quickly looked back to the road ahead on that note. Seeing the faint lights of a small town in the distance. This was going to be a much longer trip than he anticipated.

...

They'd tossed a tarp over him, of all the annoying and rude things to do! Tossing a bloodstained tarp over him was going to be a mistake. Shivering again Starscream curled a bit further in on himself. Disturbed by the bumps on his skin, he ignored them in favor of working at the reinforced cuffs he had on. He'd already gotten through two notches of the cuff's teeth in the time that the two humans had unloaded and gone inside. Such primitive designs...he was surprised they held any prisoner. Clicking two of the ratchet notches open he flattened his thumb and freed his left hand of duct tape and binds in one swift movement. Growling and shaking the stiff appendage he ripped the tape from his mouth. Getting used to the tearing of his fragile skin.

He tore off the duct type remaining on his right as he shuffled his wings. Managing to shake off the tarp to reveal the brightness of the early morning sun. Nearly blinding him upon its showing after being in the dark for so long, Starscream squinted, noting the building the car was parked in front of. It appeared to be a bar...or restaurant of some sort. Somewhere were the fleshies obtained sustenance. A concept he found creepingly familiar, almost nostalgic. Taking in his surroundings he looked for any sign of life besides that in front of him.

It looked deader than Cybertron, although, as he turned his head he leaped to the other side of the car at the sight of a big rig sitting right next to him. Dark red paint sending the flutter in his chest into a beating of drums. He clung to the door farthest from the big rig for a second before remembering that this wasn't his world. Huffing and grumbling, Starscream shook off his now dry coat and grabbed the large black one sitting in the floorboard next to him. It was huge and if he had to guess he'd say that it belonged to the monster of a man, swinging it on over his furled wings he felt the shoulders of the jacket nearly fall to his elbows. It was odd feeling but despite that, it was warm. The heaviness only reminding him of his partially lost armor.

He took comfort in that and pushed the thought of a fleshy previously occupying this jacket to the back of his mind.

Glancing down he pulled on the boots that one of them had peeled off him when he was probably tossed into the backseat. They fit nearly like armor, integrating almost into his pede and leg, the rounded piece of his new pede clicking into place in the garment. The calf of the boots blending with the jeans the universe had graciously gifted him. All in all, he decided for being turned into a fleshy things could have been worse. Sliding up between the seats like a snake he opened the door and popped out next to the big rig. Poking it with a claw as he passed for good measure.

...

Dean inhales a waffle in probably less than five minutes while Sam took to multitasking between looking through news stories and savouring the decently made pancake. Picking at the whipped cream on the top and thoroughly enjoying the fluffiness of it. Denny's had never been his favorite place but it wasn't a horrible one to go for breakfast, although, he regretted not suggesting something else instead.

The location was rather open and in the middle of town. Granted, there weren't too many people around at the moment but with something strange in the backseat of a fairly recognizable care, he had right to be worried about it. Not to mention if they mistake their lovely charge for a kidnapped citizen. Wouldn't that be something fantastic to add the number of charges on their records among a number of other things. Scrolling down a bit further Sam paused, realizing he hadn't comprehended what the last page had said. Maybe they should have shoved him in the trunk. Then he wouldn't have to worry about this as much.

Taking another bite of his pancake Sam looks up at Dean. Who suddenly has found an intense interest in the world outside. Fork still gripped in his hand. Sam highly doubts he's watching the sunrise. "How many days do you think we have left that are going to be like this?" Dean starts, still staring out into the yawning daylight. He looks tired and at an odd moment of philosophical comprehension, he looks near vulnerable.

Sam remains still, thinking of the quiet that had been not too long ago. A moment's reprieve as one might say. "I ah, I don't know."

Dean takes the answer with a grain of salt, letting his gaze fall from the world beyond the window across the way. "Neither do I."

As if on cue a waitress passes, holding a coffee pot and tugging at her obviously too tight uniform, but she welcomes them with a smile anyways. Morning tossed hair matching her slightly sunken eyes, Sam smiles back and Dean nods at her. Acknowledging her semi-chipper presence and decently sized bust. The corners of her mouth grow a little wider, "More coffee?" She asks, keeping her grip steady on the pot.

Dean moves his cup closer to the edge of the table, "If it's you that's offering I'm sure as hell taking."

She stutters a little, taken back by the line but pours the drink anyways, a slight shake now in her hands. She smiles again, but it doesn't reach her eyes in the way it did before as she turns away. Sam rolls his eyes at his brother's flattery, lack of tact as well. It's probably way too early in the morning for pick up lines. But, he says nothing.

Taking another sip of his own drink Sam looks to the door for some unknown reason but as he does he immediately regrets it. Speaking of a lack of tact... In strides, the previous center of his worries, wearing a coat four times too large for himself and rocking violet stained hair on one side. Not to mention the lines running down his face, all too annoyingly noticeable. Dean must have noticed Sam stiffen as he peers around his brother, a shock running through him as he recognizes their feathered friend. "He's almost as bad as Cas, dammit!" Dean hisses under his breath. Only loud enough for Sam to hear.

As Dean begins to prepare himself to casually escort Starscream out of the building the former Seeker spots them and strides over. Shoving metal claws in deep pockets.

He stands there at the end of their booth, frown on his face and eyes narrowed at the two, possibly going through all the things he'd like to do to them. Instead, he clears his throat and straightens his back, "Is this seat taken?"

For a moment, the two look as though they've been asked to perform some sort of horrendous activity. Like he'd asked them to pop out their own eyeballs and make some sort of dish out of them. Starscream looks expectantly, looking between the two as they regain their composure. But, his patience wears, so the former seeker pulls up a chair and pulls his sleeve covered hands onto the table. Sam mentally thanks him for having the decency to cover his damned talons as he does so.

Dean only blinks at the sight, "What? Suddenly get an appetite while you were out there?"

Starscream snarls under his breath, "Don't be stupid, I merely missed your presence you bag of filth."

"You know, I'm really starting to think I should've left you for the fishes."

"They would have been better company than you."

"Alright, you-"

"Enough!" Sam hisses, eyes darting around for any interested onlookers. All of which seem to be too tired to notice their banter. "I think we got off on the wrong foot here." Sticking out his hand Sam gives a small smile, "I'm Sam."

Starscream stares at the hand for a moment and then to the sleeves that encase his and back to Sam's hand. He hesitates, but gives a quick shake, relishing the almost undetectable flinch when the hunter touches the cold metal. Sam continues none-the-less, "And this is my brother Dean."

Dean only gives Starscream a sideways frown, evaluating him a second time as Sam waits for a name. The former seeker wonders if he should really give them one. "Air- sorry- Starscream." He corrects, deciding that his title will be completely useless.

Dean lifts a brow, "Starscream?" Sam nudges his foot from underneath the table, attempting to deter any sour comments. Dean merely twitches, "Awesome." The bitter tone slipping between his teeth.

Silence falls for more than a moment. Dean's eyes looking anywhere but directly at Starscream while the former seeker fiddles with his hands under the arms of the jacket. Sam only watches the behavior for a moment, transfixed with the former seeker's discomfort in them. How odd to be so out of place in a body.

But with a loud clack of heels, he looks up at their waiter, bringing a coffee pot back around with an expression more worn than the last one she'd taken on. She stops just short of the table, staring at Starscream in question. At first, he doesn't notice but when he looks her in the eye she jumps. It's subtle and barely visible but by the way her shoulders tense and how her forced smile comes across she's both frightened and embarrassed. "I-sorry-excuse me, I came back when I realized I forgot you." She bumbles, glancing between Sam and Starscream, the latter picking the beige table to stare at once again.

"Oh, uh, thanks." He pushes the coffee cup forward, so she can reach, absentmindedly brushing the mug against Starscream's metallic fingers. Dean winces at the sound of the metal scraping the mug's surface. Fortunately, it goes unnoticed by the woman. But she still eyes him carefully, her fixation with Dean almost completely forgotten. Although, Sam can't tell if it's the eyes that take her or the lines going down his face...maybe even that he looks like a druggie that just got off one hell of a crack binge. Either way, the attention is troublesome when you're trying to hide someone like that.

Starscream looks like he's about to growl at her until she speaks, "Forgive me, but is there anything I can help you with sir? I couldn't help but notice that you didn't come in here with a service dog or…" She stops at Starscream's raised brow. Unable to hear Dean's stifled chuckles.

Sam's the first to recover, "He's not blind, just a condition with the iris where it becomes opaque." He blurts, sounding only a little too rushed and frantic.

A quiet 'oh' falls from her lips as she straightens herself. "I apologize! I just thought!"

Dean finally composes himself enough to respond. "No, no, it's fine! He gets it all the time!"

She gives a quick smile and trots away with a loud clack of her heels. Glancing back for a moment in embarrassment. Starscream gives a low snarl listening to Dean regain his composure with a loud inhalation, playing with the fork in his hand and smiling to himself.

If Starscream had the option he'd reach into the man's chest right now and yank out his heart just fast enough to see it stop beating. The imagery seems like the perfect scenario if it wasn't for all the bodily fluids that would be trapped in his joints for the next month. Not to mention these humans were his only chance of getting back to his own time. Or perhaps...only the angel… but he would imagine killing his so-called companions would result in only his utter demise. He's noticed most don't take too kindly to helping someone whose murdered their 'partners'.

Such annoyingly sympathetic creatures.

Boredly, Starscream glares at his hands until he catches movement out of the corner of his eye. He shifts his gaze to the waiter from before hurriedly carrying a plate to a group of men at a roundtable. They each have a drink or food or even both in front of them. As she stops at the table the man before her eyes her. Looking her up and down with a look in his eyes that's familiar to Starscream. He raises his hand and she politely sets down the dish in front of him. But as she begins to walk away the man snatches her arm and says something low under his breath. Starscream feels his claws twitch.

The woman pauses when he let's go and stumbles a bit as she clatters away back to the kitchen. The man watches her every step as does Starscream. He's only momentarily distracted when Sam starts clicking away on his computer again. Bringing the former seeker out of his trance. The two brothers either oblivious or used to the cruel behavior. He would assume the latter.

Starscream is only blearily aware of when Sam rather politely asks if he would like anything. He shoots a short no in response and blankly notes when Sam eats the rest of his food. "Alright," Dean announces, "let's burn rubber." He tosses the napkin on to the plate as Sam grabs his laptop and packs it up safely.

Starscream moves carefully, eyeing the woman currently hiding in the kitchen. He shouldn't care, in fact, perhaps he doesn't. But there's something about it that rubs him the wrong way.

Dean nudges him with his shoulder as he walks past and Starscream follows the two out. Stopping when the restaurant's door hits his metal hand. It makes a loud noise, and it causes both the bothers to pause for a moment before they continue on to the car. But Starscream remains still as he hears the clack of those heels hitting the ground. He turns at the slightest only enough to see what's happening out of the corner of his eye.

She's there again giving another man a coffee, he nods in thanks but the one from before snaps his fingers at her. Reluctantly, she obeys, as soon as his hand grips her wrist and the other smacks her ass, something in Starscream breaks off.

He hears the door slam shut as he trudges over to the man. The red in his eyes light up with fury. The tips of his talons no longer hidden by the jacket. The former seeker is slamming the man's head into the table before he even comprehends what he's doing. Everyone is too stunned to do anything. But the man releases the woman's wrist nonetheless. "Don't touch." Is all Starscream growls into his ear. Raking cold metal through auburn locks, allowing the scalp a taste of his hidden weaponry.

When he releases his grip the man sputters and stands, immediately offended. He puffs out his chest and sucks in a breath. "What the hell do you think your doing!?" He bellows, spit flying from his mouth.

Starscream glares and listens to the woman's heels hit the floor as she goes to the kitchen in a rush.

The man glares back standing only an inch or two below Starscream. He's looking into his eyes and Starscream notes the hint of fear when the man looks into the pupil-less orbs. And the former seeker repeats, lowering him to look directly into the man's eyes. "Don't. Touch. Her."

It could have ended right there. It should have ended right there, in fact. If it wasn't for one tiny little problem. Starscream felt the mug crash over his head and the coffee scold his skin as he was knocked to the floor. A boot landing directly on his side as he felt another grab what was left of his long hair. He ignored the immediate pain from the boot and focused on his captor. The former seeker went for the man's wrist crushing it under his servos. He let go, but Starscream didn't, kneeing the one in front of him in the gut he dropped to the floor only to recoil for another bite.

Starscream felt the former assailant try and pop him in the back with a fist only to stop and shake his hand in pain. Perhaps there was more to this body that he initially thought? The Decepticon turned, only to be thrown down onto his back, something in his wing popped and Starscream screeched in pain. Thrashing, he noted being grabbed by the wrist but he knew better than to let them do so. He rolled the joint and snapped it out of his grasp, hitting the man in the face as backlash. Starscream was about to flee when he heard the cock of a gun in the distance. He watched the men pause and followed their gaze.

Dean looked pissed. "Okay, I don't know what just happened or who started it, but I'm ending it! Now if everybody would just sit back down and let our little pal here come back with us everything will be just fine and dandy. Alright?"

Starscream looked between Dean and the men. Each weighing their options but if he had to guess, and if the war had taught him anything, the looks in their eyes told him that they had a trick or two up their sleeve. A black haired, scruffy looking one spat on the floor, blood tarnishing the already greasy tiling. "Get out." He muttered a bear's growl in his breath.

Dean lowered his pistol, glaring at Starscream as he crept from the bruisers. Limping a bit at first until he fell in step with the hunter.

"Damn stupid aliens."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bit of a long chapter and a bit of a rough one. But not too terrible.


	5. Mi Casa Su Casa, Except That

It must have been late afternoon when they arrived. There was no other explanation for why the sun was making those lovely hues again. Or at least that's what Starscream had come to the conclusion of. The brothers had been nothing but infuriatingly silent the entire ride. Occupying themselves with their own heads or little things that he found more boring than the last. At one point he'd pretended to fall asleep in the back of the car for some information but they hadn't said a word. Small talk was out of the question after the fiasco at the diner Dean had threatened to put him back in the trunk with the tarp he liked so much.

Starscream had only retorted with a snarl, one that was answered by Dean with a mocking dog growl. He hadn't missed Sam roll his eyes and slam his head into the back of the seat in annoyance. He was watching the two of most petty creatures on Earth have a standoff. It was probably moments before they were to arrive at whatever destination the brothers had chosen when the older through a nylon sack into the back with him.

At first, Starscream had looked between the bag and the elder. Annoyance laden in his eyes, "What do you expect me to do with that?"

"Stick your head in it and shut your pie hole." Dean had replied, as he so 'fondly' remembered. Compelled only to do so when he threatened to wrap him back up in the tarp. He probably could have wriggled out of it easily enough but the idea of being stuck in this pit-spawned dimension any longer wavered over his head.

So, he let Dean shove him in the door. Listening to the creaking of a heavy bunker door opening resiliently. He already felt right at home. Dean gripped the back of the jacket Starscream had stolen from Sam like a leash, not letting the seeker waver for more than a moment. When he tore off the sack Starscream squinted at the change of light and looked out over what would appear to be...well… if he had to guess a control center. A very crude and un-innovative one, but a control center nonetheless.

Dean gave him an experimental shove and Starscream glared back at the hunter before complying. Taking slow, methodical steps down the stairs. Running talons across the railing allowing them to give off a shrill noise every now and then. "Hey!" Dean yelled. "Knock that shit out! Ye deformed bird." The last part was a mere mutter, but it made Starscream grin.

Sam only awkwardly walked away from the two. Quietly sighing to himself at his brother and perhaps at Starscream as well.

The former seeker barely bats an eye at the treatment of the younger. Dean clears his throat, "Alright, some ground rules. Don't touch anything we don't tell you to." Starscream raises a brow. Dean frowns, "If you walk out this door," he points to the bunker's heavily armored one, almost threateningly, "you will not live to see the sun. Unless of course one of us leads you out that door, then you might live."

"I wouldn't dream of it." Starscream snarks.

Earning him only a glare from the hunter. "Bust out of your room and you get locked in the dungeon. Are we clear?"

The temptation to yank Dean's chain again was there, Starscream was itching to get under the hunter's skin again. The silence on the way here had already been punishing enough but, for once, against his nature, Starscream merely nodded.

"Come on," he heard Sam say as the hunter approached, near silently, might he add. "I'll show you to your room."

Starscream looked at Sam, giving his brother one last glance before following the man down the hall. The younger is different than his brother. This, the seeker knows, even the way he holds himself is different. He gives off an air of diffidence, and although he tries to keep his head held high, there's a slouch in his shoulders. Like he's been beaten too many times to really feel the point of keeping them high. Or in the moments he does he's shoved down to the ground. It's oddly familiar to him. But Sam is kind, rough around the edges and defensive but kind. That's probably what will kill him. That and his need to please.

"So," Sam starts out of the blue, "Cas mentioned you're robots?"

Starscream huffs, almost insulted. "As the Autobots would say, 'Autonomous Robotic Organisms,'" The words taste horrible as they roll off his tongue. "I wouldn't dare lump us in with the term 'robots'."

The corner of Sam's mouth twitches, "Right, I guess not." He stops at a door, reaching into his pockets and takes out a key. He opens the door and turns on the light, revealing a rather plain looking room. Bed, lamp, tables… nothing special… his prison from now on he'd assume. Starscream takes a breath before walking through the threshold. He isn't prepared for when Sam clears his throat and dangles the key in front of his face.

Starscream looks between him and the metal object for a moment, confusion leaking through onto his face. The younger blinks but seems to ignore it, "Showers are down the hall to your left, we usually turn off the lights around nine or ten depending on the day. And uh, the laundry room is on the opposite end of the showers."

Although Starscream cocks his head a bit at the word 'laundry' he accepts the key hesitantly. Ready for the hunter to yank it away and laugh at him for being so trusting. Instead, cold metal meets warmer and the seeker nods in affirmation. Sam stands there for a moment before giving a nod and walking away. Leaving the seeker with far too many options to consider. As he stands there like a stricken new sparked he clutches the key for a moment before deciding his destination and heading down the hall. Grit suddenly far too annoying to ignore.

…

Sam glances over his shoulder all the way back from the rooms. Waiting for the seeker to be following him. He's not sure if it would be following to kill or not, perhaps to gain some form of leverage if anything. It doesn't take a genius to see that their 'guest' isn't used to being as powerless as he is. Despite that Sam can't shake the feeling that as soon as he gets what he wants he'll kill both of them.

He's almost certain that Dean would agree. Either way, keeping the secondary key was a good plan on Dean's part. Granted locking him in may earn a couple remarks and tantrums. As he walks into the library he spots Dean casually flipping through a book. At first, Sam assumes it's porn until he notices the seal on the cover. He raises a brow as he gets closer, "What're you reading?"

Dean doesn't take his eyes off the page, "Gates, specifically the gates of heaven." He snaps the book shut, "The ones you can only pass through if you're 'pure of heart' or 'dead'."

Sam blinks and shakes his head. "Okay, and you're reading it because...?"

"Because our pal is neither. We both know you can sneak into hell. But heaven is a bit more… guarded."

"So you think that Cas was wrong and Starscream crawled out of hell?"

"No, I think Screamer might have some angel in him."

Sam scoffs, "Angel?" huffing, he shakes his head, "don't you think Cas would pick up on that?"

Dean looks at the table, picking up the beer he'd left there, almost delicately readjusting the coaster as he does so. "I don't know Sammy, but it wouldn't be the first time Cas was wrong."

Sam takes a seat, sifting through the books for a moment before responding. "But Cas has been right about a lot of things Dean."

"He's also been acting weird too." The elder adds.

"It's Cas."

"Weirder than usual."

Sam gives a confused look, grabbing one of the books lying on the table that would appear to be written in Latin.

Dean sighs, "Look, Cas may be a little... wonky at times but never as spaced out and monotone as he has been now."

"Dean, he was in purgatory."

"I was in purgatory Sam! I know what happened... But there's just… something wrong with him." The hunter leans down in his chair, letting his arms rest on his knees and gives another sigh. This one silent, visible only by the rise and fall of his back.

Sam's mouth merely twitches. "I don't know Dean, maybe he's just…" he shrugs, "adjusting?"

On that cue, Dean stands, "Maybe," he mutters and walks down the hall. "Goodnight Sammy."

Still staring at the the book Sam quietly responds with a quick 'night Dean' before blankly staring at the title of his book. 'Angels'

…

Starscream leans against the wall of the showers, letting the warm water run over his body. It feels nice, soothing really. Washing away the blood and the dirt, he watches it spiral down the drain. The water rolls off his wings as he stretches them again. The strain of the appendages being compressed more prevalent than it had been all day. He breaths, feeling the muscles in his stomach work and the lungs within his chest, it's infuriating and he wants more than anything to remove them. He knows well that he can't. Instead, he runs a hand over the stitches in his hair again. They sting in the water but it's nothing compared to his side.

He dares glance down at the injury resting just beneath the rib cage. Running from his back to his front in a crescent cut, reddening around the edges and puffy in spots. Crudely stitched and welded together was the mark left after mech had clipped his wings so to speak. At the time, it hadn't been much of an injury, but it would appear that in this form it transferred over tenfold. Such fragility, he growls.

It aches, it's been aching ever since he woke up and he wonders what this kind of injury will do to his body. Reaching for the faucet he turns it off and rests there against the cool wall for a moment before pushing off of it. Walking to a mirror on the other end of the room. He stares at the form he sees in the reflection. Barely recognizable.

It's the first time he's actually seen this body and he soaks it in with distaste.

He's lithe and muscular, like that of a runner, long muscles and lanky features. His face is familiar, the lines running down it like in his original self with a bit of stubble on his chin, not to mention the scar on his cheek nor the thinness of his facial features. His cheekbones look near sharp enough to cut through steel. His eyes are familiar as well but more to human proportions, leaving a red ring around a pale pupil. They remind him of Megatron's and he immediately is disgusted by them. But even from a distance, he can see the mechanical parts within them, allowing for his sharp sight. Even in this form, he will admit he doesn't look that bad. But he finds that his hair looks disheveled. One side is long, reaching midway down his face in straight strips of dark grey and a lighter silver, a red highlight in the forefront. While the other side is crudely chopped off, leaving rather short, scraggly sprigs in the front at an only one-inch length sticking up along the adjacent side.

Gently, he runs a hand over his neck brushing over the metal plating in it on one side while running a claw down the blackened veins on the other. They run down to the middle of his chest leading to a faint-red glow in its center. He can guess what lies behind the rib cage that he already knows is metal. Nothing else would explain why the man he recoiled so much once he hit it. But the darkened veins run from that center spot and creep across his chest. Looking like diseased vines choking his greyed skin to death. It's nice to know that he still has his spark... The red sigil resting just in front of it no surprise to him either.

Clenching his servos together he feels tempted to carve it out. But raises his head instead, not now.

Starscream's head shoots up at the sound of soft feet hitting the floor. Realizing that whoever is coming is right outside the showers. He flips the light switch in a dash and jumps to the lockers. Picking up the clothes he'd managed to scrounge from one of the locked ones. Making minor adjustments in the back of the tee shirt to accommodate for his wings with a couple swift slices of his claws.

When the door opens he has just enough time to pull on the sweatpants before the light is switched on. Starscream stands there innocently with one wing stuck under the shirt and the other ruffled and twitching as he struggles to find a comfortable position for it to sit. Sam doesn't even jump at his presence, he seems to only accept it as he walks up to the lockers. Stifling the laughter bubbling in his throat as spasms wrack his chest.

The former seeker attempts to look dignified as he opens his other wing again and again. Trying to get it through the hole in the shirt. Sam keeps his eyes firmly on the wall as he does so. Unbuttoning his flannel with the timidness of a high-school girl.

As Starscream reaches around and slices the slit a bit longer he manages to get the appendage through and strides out of the locker room. Bundling his old clothes in his arms. Not letting his shoulders slump, his air of confidence and pride only slightly shattered. As he opens the door and leaves he finds himself not four steps away from the showers when he hears booming laughter.

Dressing is a struggle with these damned wings...

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to this hell I've made for myself. Be prepared for some attempted logic on how things went down and call me out on anything I did wrong. Constructive criticism is always welcome. Thank you for your time.


End file.
